


Mystery of the Century

by DianaSolaris



Category: Indiana Jones Series
Genre: (hence the tag), (i couldn't resist!), (marion doesn't really show up but it's kind of important that she and indy are married), British Museum, F/M, Gen, Grandparents & Grandchildren, Museum Heist - Freeform, Pulled from the Headlines, Yuletide Treat
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-11-29
Updated: 2018-11-29
Packaged: 2019-09-02 02:35:13
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 596
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16777933
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/DianaSolaris/pseuds/DianaSolaris
Summary: It was the mystery of the century, really. Museum thefts were, unfortunately, commonplace enough; art could be snuck out in all sorts of ways, little gold statuettes stolen from underneath their glass covers, and museums were hard up enough for money without trying to put alarm systems on every piece they owned.However, most of the pieces stolen weren’t almost 3 meters of solid basalt stone. And most of the museums that got robbed weren’t the British Museum.Funnily enough, Indy knew exactly who did it. And she didn't visit him enough.





	Mystery of the Century

**Author's Note:**

  * For [pressdbtwnpages](https://archiveofourown.org/users/pressdbtwnpages/gifts).



> i saw this prompt and got VERY giddy
> 
> i would have done something longer, but unfortunately, exams :( 
> 
> here is the news article i got the info from for the Rapa Nui statue btw! https://www.theguardian.com/world/2018/nov/16/maoi-easter-island-statue-british-museum-talks-return (always cite your sources, its very important, nodnod)

It was the mystery of the century, really. Museum thefts were, unfortunately, commonplace enough; art could be snuck out in all sorts of ways, little gold statuettes stolen from underneath their glass covers, and museums were hard up enough for money without trying to put alarm systems on _every_ piece they owned.

However, most of the pieces stolen weren’t almost 3 meters of solid basalt stone. And most of the museums that got _robbed_ weren’t the British Museum.

Indiana turned the television off with a loud groan and picked up his phone. He _liked_ watching museum trade shows. He liked being able to get away from things. He certainly had no interest in getting back into the game, but sometimes, you just had to be a grandparent.

“Hello?”

“Naomi,” he grumbled in the phone.

“Yes, Grandpa?” chirped a voice that sounded far too innocent. She had _definitely_ done it.

Indy rubbed his temples. It’d been bad enough that he’d gone and married Marion Ravenwood. He’d gone on and on about finally settling down and relaxing, and next thing you knew, she was drawing up ‘vacation plans’ that involved pirate-infested waters and long-lost treasures. Not that he minded. Resorts sounded like plastic spread on more plastic. But you were supposed to _stumble_ into adventure. Not plan for it.

But then. _Then._ Mutt had gone travelling around the world (in seventy-nine days, he’d proudly announced, and Indy hadn’t had the heart to tell him that that record had been set nearly a hundred years before) and come back with a wife from Bangladesh. Now, Indy loved Sanjana. She was polite, and well-read, and could argue up a storm with Marion when she wanted to.

It was their _kids._ Something had to be done about their kids.

“Naomi,” he started, then had to take another deep breath, “Naomi, do you happen to know anything about the Easter Island head that just vanished from the British Museum?”

“Do you mean Rapa Nui’s Hoa Hakananai’a?”

“ _Whatever._ Yes. That.”

“Nope. Don’t know a thing about it.”

“Are you sure? Nothing’s slipped your mind?”

“Nope. Would definitely remember.”

Indy nodded slowly. “I’m not going to visit your warehouse in Britain and find your boss’s construction equipment in the backyard?”

“Of course not. I always return my toys. Unlike _some_ people.”

It was a good thing Naomi couldn’t see his face. He’d never live down the grin on it. Snarky little – “Do you know how much black market traders would pay for that?”

“Relax, Grandpa. I know what I’m doing.”

“I’m just saying – _hypothetically –“_

“Are you implying that whoever took it should give it back?” There was an arch tone to her voice.

Indy glanced up at the photos on the mantelpiece, thought about the Ark, the Grail, even the Stones – Yeah, some things belonged in a museum. Others had their own homes.

“I’m saying, whoever took it better have figured out how they’re getting it back to Easter Island.”

There was a little break of silence, and Indy tapped his fingers against his jeans, waiting. Then he rolled his eyes. “Yes, you can ask Sallah.”

“Aw! Thank you, Grandpa!”

“Don’t mention it.” Indy hesitated. “No, I’m serious. Your father would kill me. And Marion’s already on a crusade about the Brazil Museum burning down, I don’t need her joining yours as well.”

Naomi laughed. “No problem. Thanks a bunch! I’ll come visit you when I can. Bye-bye!”

“Later, kid.” He hung up, then picked up the remote with a groan.

Apparently _something_ meant enabling. But hell. He’d never liked the British Museum anyway.


End file.
